Surprise
by neotantrika
Summary: Sam Merlotte and Sookie Stackhouse have been circling one another throughout the novels and the TV series; here's where they finally come together.
1. Chapter 1

It had been one hell of a crappy evening. I hadn't even planned on working that night, but Sam Merlotte, my boss at Merlotte's Bar and Grill, had called to tell me that one of the other barmaids had called in sick and there was no one else to fill in. I could probably have talked my way out of it, pleaded sickness myself, maybe even just yelled at him that I was entitled to my time off and slammed the phone down in his ear. But then Sam said, "Sookie, please..." in that soft voice of his and I just could not say no.

So instead of doing my laundry and finishing that romance novel I'd been working on, I was up until well after midnight working the night shift. And what with it being Friday, and the high school basketball team winning the game that night against Clarice, the bar had been full of thirsty people drinking deep. By the time the cook said good night and Sam locked the front door, my feet were crying for a good soak and my right shoulder was hurting from carrying so many loaded trays. My head hurt from blocking a bunch of drunk and agitated minds and I wanted to go to bed. I took off my apron and threw it in the trash can Sam had set aside for dirty linens, and went back into his office for my purse.

He came in behind me. "Sookie, I wonder if you'd do me a favor."

I was feeling snappish, since I'd already done him a solid just coming in on my night off. So I snarled at him, just a little. "What?"

He blinked at me, his red-gold hair an unruly mop on his head. "Um."

I could sense his confusion even though I'd put my internal blocks up hard and fast all night. I sighed and told myself he was a friend. "What do you need, Sam?"

He stood in the doorway, looking embarrassed. And a little guilty. Sam's body language is often easier to read than his mind. He's a shifter, and sometimes doesn't track along the same lines as ordinary humans. "I just need you to help me carry some stuff to my trailer," he said.

"Okay," I said. Sam's trailer is out back on the other side of the employee parking lot, almost close enough to spit at. I looped my purse onto my shoulder and turned to face my friend and boss.

Sam bent down and lifted a couple of boxes, one at a time, to the top of his desk. They were ordinary packing cartons with the brand names of a couple of brewing companies on them; I saw some clothes piled in the top of each one. "Just some aprons and T-shirts I'm looking over," Sam said, his face turned away as he lifted another box. "We're running low on Merlotte T-shirts and I thought we'd try some new colors when I re-order."

I grabbed the top box and lifted. It wasn't heavy, but it was bulky. "Got one," I said.

Sam lifted two boxes on top of the one on the desk and picked them both up. He's not a big man, just a little taller than me, but he's very strong. "Can you get the light?" he said, going through the door.

I hit the light switch with my shoulder as I went out, and plunged us into darkness. I know that hallway like the back of my hand, though, and in a moment I saw Sam backing through the rear door, his arms loaded with boxes. I caught a hint of suppressed excitement both from his mind and his tensed shoulders. But when I focused (feeling guilty for doing it), Sam was thinking about colored T-shirts. He was thinking about them in a very determined way, but I was too tired to care about that.

I went through the back door and it swung shut behind me with a solid thunk and then we were in the parking lot. It was cool and quiet, with a sliver of moon periodically veiled by scudding clouds. It had rained on and off all night, and the air still held the scent of wet earth and soggy pine trees. I could smell the dumpster next to me (coffee grounds and grease) and some kind of flower blooming in the woods surrounding the bar. I glanced around; the parking lot was deserted except for my car and Sam's truck.

I crunched across the gravel parking lot and thumped up onto the porch Sam had built in front of his double-wide. He muttered something under his breath as he juggled boxes and tried to unlock his front door. Finally he got it open. He pushed in and I heard boxes hitting the floor, then the light went on and he was holding the door open for me. I staggered in and he took the box from me.

"Thanks," he said, shutting the door behind me. Now he was really full of excitement, even anticipation, and I felt a little wary. Not that I have ever had anything to fear from Sam Merlotte, but I don't like surprises. And there was definitely something up with Sam.

"I, ah, have something for you," he said. Was that a note of shyness in his voice? Sam looked at me and smiled. The smile wobbled a bit when I didn't smile back. He nodded past my shoulder, towards the dining/living area at the front of the trailer. I turned.

There was a tiny dining table in the eating nook. In the middle of it sat a small cake with candles on it. I blinked, not believing what I saw.

I heard the scritch of a match behind me and smelled sulfur. "Happy birthday, Sookie," Sam said. He stepped past me and lit the candles. "I wasn't sure you'd want all the candles, so I just put five, one for every year you've worked for me." He finished lighting the candles and shook out the match. Finally, he turned to me and straightened. "I hope you like it."

"Like it? It's wonderful! Oh, Sam!" And then for some ridiculous reason I felt tears behind my eyes and Sam's mood changed.

"Oh, God, what ... Sookie, are you mad? I didn't mean..."

I ran my palms over my eyes. "No, no, I mean it, Sam. It's wonderful. I just ... do you know, I had actually forgotten that today is my birthday?"

"Well, you have been busy..."

That was the understatement of the year. What with vampire politics, wars between tribes of supernatural beings, various murders, fires, and explosions, life in Bon Temps, especially my life in Bon Temps, had been very busy lately. I laughed.

Sam grinned at me. "Better," he said."There are plates and forks behind you. I remembered you like spice cake."

I slipped the purse off my shoulder and put it on the counter next to his sink. There were two plates and two forks lying there. I gathered them and turned back.

Sam picked up a knife lying next to the cake and stood expectantly. I stood there with plates in my hands, gawking. "What?"

"You have to blow out the candles," he said. I took a deep breath. "Wait!"

"Yes?"

He cocked his head. When he did that, he reminded me of his other self, the collie he sometimes shifted into. "Don't you want to make a wish?"

A wish. God, yes, I had a wish. I wanted peace and quiet and safety. And love. Most of all, I wanted real love. Not the lust of vampire sex or the domination of were-beings, not the petty little affairs my brother had. Just steady, strong love for me, for who I really am, and not for what I can do. I took a deep breath, bent over and blew out every candle at once.

"Impressive," Sam said. He cut two generous slices and put them on the plates. He gestured and we sat down across from one another at the table.

"This is really nice of you, Sam," I said. I ate a forkful and smiled. Spice cake with vanilla frosting. Perfect. "Thank you. Did you make the cake yourself?"

"Don't sound so surprised," he said. "I can read the directions on a box of cake mix."

"But you took the time to do it," I said. "And the trouble. And I really, really needed this tonight...hey, wait." I put down my fork. "Did Holly really call in sick tonight, or did you guys plan this out so I'd be here late?"

"Do you want some milk with that cake?" Sam asked brightly.

"Sam--"

"Okay, yes, Holly agreed to switch nights so you'd be here. But I had no idea the team would win and we'd be swamped tonight. I'm sorry about that."

I was too tired to be mad at him, especially since he'd gone to all this trouble. "You're forgiven," I said. "Especially if I get another piece of that cake."

This time I ate all the frosting and left most of the cake alone. Sam cleaned up his plate in record time and ate another big piece. By the time we were finished, there wasn't much cake left. "I'll wrap this up for you to take home," Sam said, rising.

"That's okay," I said. "Leave it here. Tomorrow I'll share it with everyone else in the bar."

Sam hung a dishtowel carefully from a hook. "If you want," he said quietly. "But I'd rather this was just, you know, something for me and you."

I was tired and full of cake and it was late. Everything was still and quiet. I was aware that we were alone together, not in a busy bar or at my house with guests or at a crime scene or a fire. It was just me and Sam, who right now was not my boss but a friend. A close friend. He stepped closer to me.

"There's something else," he said quietly. He reached toward me. I thought he was going to embrace me and I didn't step back. I didn't want to step away. But his hand went past me to a cupboard above the sink and drew out a small wrapped package. He put it in my hand.

"A birthday present," I said. Captain Obvious, that's me.

"Nothing fancy," he said. "Just, you know, a little something. From a friend."

I took off the gold bow and tore the white wrapping paper. The box had been wrapped a little clumsily, which told me he'd done it himself. Sam's good with his hands, but I don't think he has a lot of practice wrapping presents. Inside was a box, which I opened. I pulled out a plastic figure.

And laughed. It was a bobblehead, one of those dolls with a spring-mounted oversize head, which bounced around when you shook it. This one was a blonde girl with a pony tail, wearing a white T-shirt and black pants. She held a tray in one hand. I looked closely, and sure enough someone had written "Merlotte's" in Magic Marker over the left pocket of her shirt. On the base, the same hand had written "Sookie".

"It's _adorable_!" I said. I shook the doll and the head bounced up and down. "Where did you get her?"

Sam was grinning, waves of happiness coming off of him. "Ordered her special on the Internet."

"It must have cost a bundle!" I shook her again, fascinated by the bobbing head.

He shrugged. "Worth every penny, if you like her."

"She's the perfect match to the one I gave you last year," I said. Last year for Christmas, I'd given Sam a bobblehead collie dog, as a sort of in-joke between us. I'd first learned he was a shifter the day he fell asleep at my house as a dog and woke up as a naked man.

"Yes, she is," he said. His voice was soft. "A perfect companion."

"Where's yours?" I said brightly. Too brightly. Sam's mood was affecting me...elated, yet a little melancholy too.

He turned without a word and walked down the narrow inner hallway to the bedroom at the rear of his trailer. I followed him. He switched on a light as he entered, and I saw that his big bed was neatly made up, with a dark blue cover to complement the light blue walls. Sam turned when I came in, looking a little surprised. Maybe he had not expected me to follow him. He pointed to the bedside table. Next to the lamp and a paperback book was the bobblehead collie. I walked around Sam and put the waitress bobblehead next to it. The motion started both of them bobbling, and I giggled. "A girl and her dog," I said.

"Yeah." A soft chuckle behind me. I turned, and Sam was right there, and his eyes were shining at me and the thoughts coming off of him were warm and soft and loving. "_Your _dog," he said, and leaned down.

There had always been something simmering between us, and he'd kissed me a couple of times, but something had always interrupted. Sometimes it had been the other men--or rather, vampires and weres--in my life, sometimes it was one of us, stopping. This time, I didn't stop him. His mouth was warm and firm. He kissed me, pulled back, brushed my lips with his, went in for another kiss. His tongue was wet and soft as it brushed against my closed lips, and I opened them for him. He tasted of birthday cake. His hands closed on my waist and drew me against him.

His body felt as solid as a brick wall against mine, and as warm as sunlight. I smelled his skin, which had overtones of woods and smoke, and his shirt, which smelled a little bit like single malt scotch. His mouth left mine and drifted down my neck, under my ear. His hands circled me and slid up my back, drawing me in tight.

"Sookie..." he whispered in my ear. Something in his voice woke an ache in me. And he let me in.

I've been hearing other people's thoughts all my life, and a lot of them know it. I'm used to barriers and hesitation and fear. But Sam let down whatever guards he had and let me hear him. What I heard was an ocean of love. No barriers, no holding back. He let me know all his hopes and dreams and fears and his shy fascination with my breasts, but most of all he let me into a dark and lonely place I knew no one had ever been to. The only thing in that lonely place was my name.

"Sookie...." he said into my hair. One hand rose to stroke my hair, over and over, as I pressed my face into his shoulder. "So sweet."

This time I kissed him, raising my hands to hold his face between my hands. I felt tears at the back of my throat, tears on my cheeks, a sob caught in my throat. I'd always guessed how he felt--hell, it was an open secret that Sam had the hots for me. I hadn't guessed how deep that love went, though. Now I knew, and it made me weak in the knees.

"Sam," I said against his mouth. I let go of his face and reached down to tug his shirt out of the waistband of his pants. I felt him go still and quiet, felt the surprise in him. Had I misjudged? I pulled back and looked up -- not very far -- into his blue eyes. "Sam?"

His hands fell to my waist, feeling a little uncertain. "Are you...do you want to...I wasn't planning this, believe me." He stopped and swallowed. But his mind was open to me, and now I felt the tidal wave in him, the ache in him that went bone-deep. "I don't want to pressure you..."

"Don't pressure me," I whispered. "But you can _ask _me--"

He shuddered all over, pulled me close, and buried his face in my hair. "Oh, God, Sookie, I want you. I ... I love you. You know that. You've always known that. Please..." I heard him swallow. "Let me love you."

"Yes," I said softly. I could hardly hear myself. "Love me, Sam."

He let go of me and stepped back, his eyes shining. "Sookie...I..."

I put a finger on his lips. "Shhh..." I ran the finger down his chin to his neck to the opening of his shirt and hooked it there. I drew him towards me. "We don't have to talk, do we?"

His mouth on mine said plenty--no longer shy but eager, happy, excited. He was breathing fast as he skimmed his hands up my arms to my shoulders and cupped my face. He was practically panting as I unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off his wide shoulders. His skin was warm against my palm, his chest hair tickling a little. I heard his shirt drop to the floor and then reached down to tug at the hem of my T-shirt. His hands fell to cover mine.

"Let me," he whispered. He drew the T-shirt up and over my head, gently stretching the collar so it would not catch on my face. He stared down at my breasts and I could see he was breathing shallowly. He swallowed. "God...so beautiful."

I've seen Sam naked quite a few times, thanks to his shifting, and once when we were hugging in his office I definitely felt an erection against me. But he'd never seen me naked. I thought I should feel shy, but I didn't. I felt ... powerful. So I let go of him and slowly slipped one strap, then another off my shoulder. He breathed hard, licking his lips. I turned around and glanced over my shoulder, and in a moment I felt his fingers at my bra catch. He fumbled a little; his fingers were shaking. I crossed my arms and turned around, and then let my arms fall. The bra slid off my arms to the floor, and I thought Sam was going to kneel. Or pass out.

Instead, he moaned, and his hands (warm and callused) came up to cup my breasts and his mouth came down on mine and he was backing me up. I felt the bed against my knees and lost my balance, falling backwards, but he caught me and lowered me to the mattress. I reached up and pulled the elastic band out of my hair, and it fell out of its ponytail to my shoulders. The bed squeaked as he knelt on it, and one hand came out to spread my hair across the pillow. Sam's eyes were shining and there was a half-smile on his face, an intensity to his gaze I'd never seen. I wondered if he would shift. I hoped he wouldn't, not then, anyway.

He straddled me and leaned down to nuzzle my breasts. I felt his tongue warm and wet on a nipple and I gasped, arching up under him. His hands slid up and down, cupping my breasts, thumbs softly brushing. I reached down and fumbled at his belt, distracted by what his tongue was doing to my breasts. When I finally got his big rodeo belt buckle undone and opened the top button on his jeans, he sucked softly on a nipple and I felt my fingers grow weak. His tongue was incredible, so soft and warm and agile. _Like a dog_, part of my mind said, but I pushed that thought away.

I could feel the muscles of his abdomen against the back of my hand as I slipped it under his waistband. The hair on his belly (a darker shade of red than his hair) brushed against it as I yanked at the waistband, clumsy in my haste. I felt Sam's chuckle against my right breast as he reached down, gently pulled my hand away, and unzipped his jeans. There was denim and then silk and then warm male skin against my hand, and then I had my hand full indeed. Sam gasped a little but didn't stop his nibbling and kissing, but it was a little more frenzied now. I heard him loud and clear in my head now--delight and passion and an aching, melancholy love that had more depth to it than I'd let myself imagine. How long had he felt this way? I'd never encountered this level of devotion, not in anyone's head.

When I gave him a tentative squeeze, he moaned and buried his head in my shoulder. "Stop ... a moment ..." he gasped. I withdrew my hand, and he rolled off of me. He shucked out of his jeans and briefs (black silk, I noticed..._ooo, Sam!_) until he was naked next to me. He caught my look and went still.

_Look all you want_, his mind said to mine. He laced the fingers of his left hand into my right hand. _It's all yours. _

That could have sounded arrogant--in a man like my horndog brother, it would have. But from Sam, it was humble. He was offering me everything. No one I'd ever been to bed with, not vamp or were, had ever offered me so much vulnerability. Sam didn't want to use me or control me or exploit me or make me a queen or a slave. He just wanted Sookie, the barmaid he had loved from the day I walked into his bar.

I felt wetness on my cheek and rolled towards him. "Sam..."

He caught me up against him and rolled, and I was on top of him, half dressed and half laughing, half crying. His face was buried in my hair as he whispered my name.

It was a struggle getting out of my work pants and my panties. I think he helped me, because I felt his hands, but I also felt his mouth which never left mine. I just know that the feel of us together, warm human skin against warm human skin, his rough and mine smooth, his pale and mine summer-tanned, was like coming home. His hands slid up my back to tangle in my hair, his knee pressed between us, and he rolled over until I was under him. I loved his weight on me. I loved the smell of his skin (soap, sweat, beer, man) so human and alive. I loved the feel of hard muscle under my palms when I ran them over his shoulders, down his back, his muscles flexing under mine as he kissed his way down my body. When he came to my thighs, he buried his face between them and took in a long, audible sniff.


	2. Chapter 2

My face got hot. "Sam!"

He laughed, and I felt his laugh against my thigh. "Don't be offended," he said. "It's a ... a ... dog thing."

"Sam Merlotte, I am _not _going to sniff your butt!" I could hardly believe I was saying that.

"No worries," he said, licking the inside of my thigh. "Wasn't going to ask you to." He bit my thigh, very softly. It sent little thrills up my body. "You smell wonderful."

"Yeah, well, it's ... a little embarrassing."

He looked up at that, his blue eyes meeting mine with an intense look. "I would never want to embarrass you," he said quietly. "But this is who I am, Sookie. A man ... and something else, too."

_Like you. A woman, and something else. You know what I mean_.

I did know what he meant. I know what it meant to feel outcast. To have the simplest things--love, friendship, connection--come at a heavy price. Or not to be available at all. While I was thinking this, he lowered his head and _oh my God his tongue_ was warm and wet and perfect, perfect. I moaned and felt his shoulders shake with a chuckle as he stroked harder, and I felt his erection strong against my leg.

"Let me do this," he said quietly. "Let me make you come, Sookie. I've dreamed of it."

I don't think I'd ever heard anything so erotic in my life. I clutched the bed cover in my fists and arched against him, feeling the warm tension build in me as his tongue moved quick and hot, feeling the coiling energy at the base of my spine, and then I was lost in the surge of orgasm pulsing through me. Even as I crested, I felt Sam's hands on my knees, parting them, felt him settling between them, felt him pushing at me. I moaned, softening all over, and my eyes closed in bliss as he pushed in slowly, carefully.

_Don't hurt her don't hurt her god so beautiful she feels so good Sookie Sookie love you _

His thoughts in my head were a tide of happiness and love. It felt like falling into a swimming pool full of warm water, immersing myself in that ocean of love that was Sam. I felt him ease into me, stretching nicely, filling me inside my body and inside my head, propped on his elbows above me. I opened my eyes and met his, and his smile was so tender and happy I had to smile back.

"Chere..." he whispered, and thrust gently.

Oh, very good. Very very good indeed.

I trapped his legs under mine, raising my knees, giving him even deeper access. His eyes never left mine as he thrust again.

"Sookie..." He thrust harder, faster, his muscles working. I reached down and grabbed the hard muscles of his butt, working under my hands, driving him deep and strong, and the red flood of sheer passion in Sam crested all at once. He cried out and shifted slightly, and his angle changed, and suddenly my moment was on me again. I cried out and all I could see were Sam's eyes, his human eyes, wide-pupilled, staring down into mine as he came. I felt the hot throb of him, felt the shudder going through him, and felt in my head the hot blaze and sheer joy of his release.

Most of all, strangest of all, was the image I was getting from him. It was me, mirrored back at me, and in Sam's mind I was glowing with energy, infinitely beautiful and desirable. I felt the bedrock of Sam Merlotte then, felt his passion and the depth of his love, and knew that nothing in life would ever mean as much to him as I did. I knew what he wanted--marriage, love, kids, a home. He would be happy running a bar and building a family and growing old and dying. Just an ordinary life, a human life, with the woman he loved. With me.

He was still moving gently in me as I closed my eyes and let the tears come. He said nothing, but lowered himself full length, slid his arms around me, and gathered me tight against him. He rolled us sideways, which detached him from me, and his hand came up to stroke my hair over and over. I had a brief image of me scratching him behind his ears, and my smile broke the moment. I sniffed.

He released me a little and looked down. "Sookie?"

"Sam." I couldn't say more than his name. I don't think I needed to.

We lay like that for a while, our bodies cooling off. I closed my eyes and just sank into the feeling of his arms around me, his body against mine. Ordinary. Human. Normal. I smelled sweat and sex and birthday cake, the detergent he'd used on his sheets, the shampoo he'd used on his hair. I heard rain softly dripping outside his window, and a distant hoot of an owl in the woods. I felt safe and peaceful and happy. It's a rare feeling these days.

Finally, Sam stirred. I started to ask him where he was going, but he silenced me with a kiss. I normally don't like it when someone shuts me up, but that method won me over. Sam padded out of the room (with me watching that marvelously muscular butt in the dim light of the bedside lamp). He came back a minute later with the remains of the birthday cake on its plate. Grinning, he dropped into bed, bouncing us both, but he held the plate steady.

"You didn't bring any forks," I said.

Still grinning, he swirled a finger through the icing and dabbed it on my left breast. "Who needs forks?" His head bent to lick the icing. His tongue was wet and slow.

Sam's trailer needs better shocks; the bobblehead collie and the bobblehead waitress bounced and danced on and off the rest of the night.

THE END


End file.
